


Macabre

by i_am_op



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abusive Relationships, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21600622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_op/pseuds/i_am_op
Summary: "Please, don't leave me. Don't leave me like she did," Erik mutters underneath his breath.There was no response.[In which Christine leaves but Raoul stays]
Relationships: Raoul de Chagny/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 6
Kudos: 129





	Macabre

He had loved Christine differently from the way he loved Raoul.

Christine had been pure and untouched, she had been someone to treasure and Erik had worshiped her existence as if she were a goddess. She had never been his and she, like silvery mist, had slipped through his fingers and left him that one night during the summer, when the crowd mingled through the populaire and she had left him, without a second thought or a second look, with only traces of her existence from a slightly unmade bed and a letter on top of it that smelled faintly of her. 

Perhaps he had loved Raoul because he was like her, in those wide eyes and breathless smile that reminded him of the sun, bright and warm, but that did not matter anymore because Raoul never smiled anymore, not in his presence anyways, not since Christine had left. 

He loved Raoul with hate, love, jealousy, possessiveness, all mingled in to be one. He had only felt a soft, longing want from Christine, but with Raoul, he feels too much of everything. Too much of love, too much of anger too much of hate, too much of anguish. 

If Christine was spring, warm and lively like the blooming of flowers, then Raoul was like summer, unrelenting, tasting of ocean waters that he vaguely remembers, the burn of the sun, and the taste of freedom. 

Christine did not love him. 

Raoul did not either. But he could come to. He would have to. 

Sometimes, when he kissed Raoul, he imagined it to be Christine. When he closes his eyes and tangles his fingers in his hair, soft enough to almost reminded Erik of Christine, but not quite curly enough, not quite long enough, he pretended it's Christine. He imagined curly, chestnut hair and soft gentle eyes paired with a excitable smile. 

Sometimes, when he kissed Raoul, it's vividly Raoul. Every sharp intake of breath, every movement of his muscles, every stagger and motions that was so utterly Raoul, all his quirks and ticks memorized to the bone. The nose scrunch that Raoul does every nose and then, how he shifts more weight into his left leg than his right, everything about him, Erik knew and kept every little detail to himself. 

Christine.

He had loved her, but he had hated her, for leaving him the way she did, for being indifferent the way she was, to his love and to his spite. 

Raoul was like Christine, but he was not indifferent, he had too much anger and resentment for him to be indifferent, and Erik thought that he rather being despised than the unloving nor hating eyes Christine had shone him, only pity.

***

"Please, just let me go," Raoul whimpered as he clutched onto Erik's wrists weakly, kneeling on the floor desperately, as if he were begging. 

Erik's heart turned an ugly black and twisted upon itself. Raoul couldn't leave, he couldn't go like Christine had gone, because he was Raoul, he had too much of everything to disappear, too much of hate, passion, and love to just disappear like Christine had, without any traces left behind her or without a single word. 

He wanted to blind Raoul so he can't see anything else, he wanted to cripple him so he couldn't run away, he wanted to break every bone in his body, one by one, so he wouldn't be able to move and could only be helpless, unable to slip from his grasp into thin air.

Betrayal. Anger. He felt those two emotions fill his heart, painting the world an ugly red and his life a desolate black. 

"One more word for you and I'll beat you till an inch of your life," Erik warned, and he glanced at Raoul, giving him a warning with his eyes. 

"Then do it. Kill me," Raoul whispered. Would he rather death than solitude with him? The thought filled Erik with despair and anger, enough to fulfill his promise.

He landed a kick to Raoul's side. Raoul glowered at him and his eyes dared him, as if challenging him to a fight and Erik simply retaliated to it by landing a punch to his face.

Raoul had fought many times when Erik kept him inside here. He had been victor to some fights, but he was too unfamiliar with the underground structures to be able to properly run away without being easily caught. Perhaps he had a chance long ago, but now, he was too tired and weak nowadays, fatigue easily catching up with him, to do much of anything but cry and glare helplessly. He only stayed bedridden and he had not ran or jumped, did much of anything since forever. 

He could only stand there, face scrunched up in pain and unable to fight back, but with a smile on his face. That only served to infuriate Erik more.

It was a smile of indifference, the same smile that Christine had given him, and he had previously thought that Raoul was similar to Christine, with something that fainted reminded him of her, but at the moment, it was as if Christine were there, kneeling before him, with the cold apathy, one that couldn't find it in herself to love him, but couldn't find herself to hate him either. A wave of hate flushed into him, mingled in with everything he had felt the day he had read the letter, had smelled her perfume on it, had saw her handwriting on it. 

It was short. Like she had written it as if it were something likened to an afterthought. Erik had been an afterthought. 

She had mentioned Raoul, had told to keep him safe and not land a hand on him, and perhaps it was his spite and loneliness and jealousy that led Erik to the abduction of the Chagny, not solely on the fact he had reminded Erik of Christine. 

He had worshiped Christine. He had loved her in a way that he knew was hapless and bore no results. 

Erik managed to land another hit onto Raoul's face, if only to get rid of that stupid smile. 

It worked, because Raoul's face turns into a sneer, looking at Erik as if he wanted to kill, and that satisfied him, sates Erik into leaving another hit to his face.

He kicked Raoul to the point of Raoul being bruised and bloody, to the point that it'd hurt if Raoul were to ever smile again, if he were ever to attempt to leave again. He kicked Raoul until he's unable to move, the only thing Raoul being able to do was breathe and even that caused Raoul to scrunch his face in pain with every breath that he inhales and exhales.

His eyes were foggy and the only signs of him being awake were his occasional blinks.

Erik fell to the ground with a thud, kneeling besides Raoul, besides the man who had previously knelt before him as well, begging to be let go, begging to be free, begging to leave Erik like Christine had. 

"Please, don't leave me. Don't leave me like she did," Erik muttered underneath his breath. 

There's a flicker of recognition in Raoul's hazy eyes at those words. Neither of them said her name. Raoul had not talked about her since his arrival and Erik thought of her all the time, when he looked at Raoul, when he read her letter, but he had never said her name, like it was some kind of a taboo. 

"Please."

There was no response. 

Erik does not know if it is the bruises on his face that prevent him from responding or if it is cold rejection. He doesn't care as he brings Raoul's body towards him, cradled in his arm, on his thighs. 

"Stay. I won't hit you ever again if you just stay. Promise, promise that you'll stay and all of this will be over. _Please_?" 

"Okay," Raoul softly said, barely above a whisper. "I'll stay."

He looks defeated, he looks like he's lost all the power to fight back, and for the first time, he does not resemble Christine at all. 

Erik kissed him deeply and Raoul does not reciprocate. It doesn't bother Erik at all. 

***

He glanced at the letter that Christine had left on her bed, the one she had left before she had escaped his hold, the smell of perfume faded now, until the could only smell ink and paper. The words had been ingrained into his head, he had read over it many times, over and over again, until he no longer needed the letter, until he could close his eyes and envision it. 

Erik remembered every loop of her letters, every curve, every twists. It had an elegant-quality to it, but also with tints of being written like a child, a messily written scrawl. It embodied Christine herself and Erik used to imagine her writing this, what expression she had on her face, what thoughts coursed through her head. 

It was dark. He could hardly read the letter with the candle so far away. He lifts up a candle that rests upon a drawer and rereads the contents.

It's exactly the same in the way he remembers it, if not a bit more wearier since the previous read due to the course of time. He smiled, for the first time, at the letter, in place of the usual look of anguish, anger, and contempt. He brought the candle closer until the paper caught fire and watched as it becomes nothing but black ash. 

He went back to stroking Raoul's hair. His heart was never big enough for two anyways.

Perhaps he had likened Raoul to Christine, perhaps he had thought Raoul to be a replacement for her, but Christine is now only a distant memory, like a dream he once had but slipped from his mind like water slipped through his fingers. 

He kissed Raoul. He loved him and he'll beg for forgiveness till eternity, till his throat bleed, till he lost his voice.

He was sure that Raoul would never forgive him, that there would always be a part of him that resented him for taking everything away from him and expecting more from him, but he can fool him into thinking he does.

Raoul's first and only mistake was staying.

**Author's Note:**

> for anon!! sorry its not fully fleshed out and short, but i wanted to get it out before you got tired of waiting!


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